Trench Coat on a Tortilla
by ArneNestor
Summary: ClockWork interferes on his brothers behalf. S07E01
1. Chapter 1

**Words** : 305

 **Add date** : 08/01/2016

 **Disclaimer:** I neither claim the plot, nor the characters of either show! Free of charge!

 **Trench Coat on a Tortilla  
**

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" _... You need a firm hand. You need a Father. And I am your Father now. Be obedient, children … Or this will be your fate. It's a new day, on Earth and on Heaven. Rejoice!_ " Preached the one surviving angel that stood above the corpses of his fellow in Heaven.

"Okay, that is just creepy. Even Vlad wasn't such a fruitloop and that dude was criminally insane!" Said Danny Fenton – ex-hero and savior of Amity Park, Slayer of Pariah the Dark and Halfa extraordinaire – as he and his mentor – ClockWork, Master of Time and Youngest of the Four Primordials – were examining the whole ordeal from above at ClockWork's Tower. "This brings new heights to the quote ' _Absolute power corrupts absolutely_ '"

"True. Unfortunately, the bird's power-up has only a very short lifespan before the poison that it took in with the stolen souls will start to break free again and will destroy Earth like they did to Venus." Stated ClockWork before adding "They only have a 34,21% success rating for sending the beasts back to Purgatory. So, are you ready to face your old friends, Daniel?".

"As ready as I will ever be. Jazz has always accused me of a hero-complex." He countered solemnly at the reminder of his late sister.

"Very well. I don't need to remind you that my brother doesn't take to kindly to being bound." Red eyes meeting blue "And warn the Winchesters about the Mark when you are at it. We don't need to replace one threat with another and more dangerous threat, do we? The eyeballs are still debating our actions for redirection of the Apocalypse."

ClockWork only got a nod before the immortal 17 year old jumped – in human form – through a portal that was displaying a junkyard.


	2. Chapter 2

**Words** : 421

 **add date** : 09/01/2016

 **Disclaimer:** I neither claim the plot, nor the characters of either show! Free of charge!

 **Threnchcoat on a Tortillia**

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"... _Freak lightning strikes on the heels of the fire that burned down the 'Center for Vibritional Enlightenment' earlier today. Said a spokesman, 'this tragedy represents the largest loss in new-age motivational speaker history._ " Was blaring form the radio in Singers' junkjard.

"Motivational speakers?" Sam commented with a frown.

"Yeah. I'm not sure new Cas gets irony any better than old Cas." Returned Dean as he unfasted the lamp from under the open hood before the closed it. "Course old Cas wouldn't smite Madison Square Garden just to prove a point." Dean continued as switched the light off and looked Sam in the eyes. "He is of the deep end of the deep end. And there is no slowing down." Before he began looking down again.

"So, what? Try to talk to him again?" Sam tried to put forth. "Sam." warned Dean as a way to stop Sam's line of thought.

"Dean, all we _can_ do is talk to the guy." Sam tried hopefully. Only to get debunked by Dean. "He's not a guy. _He's God, and he's pissed_. And when God gets righteous, you get the Hell out of the way. Haven't you red the Bible."

Before Sam could retour however a very familiar voice jumped in from behind several cars. "That is only partially true, _Dean_. Yes, he's _not_ your average bird anymore, but he is hardly God." Said the speaker as he slowly moved towards them, if the sound of moving gravel is anything to go by. "And he _is_ slowing down, just not in the way that you think. The reality of it all will just get more gruesome." The voice continued on with a small drawl as he slowly came into view of the headlights, revealing a pair of worn jeans. All the while his pathway is being tracked by two experienced gunmen at the car in the middle.

With several strides, stood the speaker in the middle of the yard. Only to reveal a kid that couldn't be more than 18. He had unruely jet-black hair and one pair of very familiar baby-blue eyes.

"Danny?!" was the only reaction the Halfa's old friends could bring up in union. They thought that he had died almost ten years ago with the rest of his small hometown in a freak explosion.

"Hey, Sam. Dean. How has life been treating you since I ' _died_ '?" Said the Halfa darkly before adding with a smirk "Your mom and Dad said 'hi' by the way."


	3. Chapter 3

**Words** : 335

 **add date** : 23/01/2016

 **Disclaimer:** I neither claim the plot, nor the characters of either show! Free of charge!

 **Thrench Coat on a Tortillia**

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"What the Hell! Is this Cas's way to destract us?" Exclamed Dean as he kept his gun trained on the blue-eyed kid. Sam was just giving him a calculating look, trying to figure out how/who could have raised the teen that died almost a decade and a half ago while ignoring the pain from his soul that was slowly driving him insane.

"Hardly. Heaven considered me an abomination and Hell was out of question so I gave ClockWork a try. It was a good deal, roof above my head, food on the plate, jumping through the timestream,..."

"Wait! What? Jumping through time? Like the Angels?"

" _Angels_. Those birdbrains are the reason that I have to jump through time! Ever heared of the butterfly-effect? In short, every time-jump those idots make, cause ripples in the time-stream with major consequences. Like Balthzar and the Titanic disaster, remember." Danny smached his hand in the hood of the car on his right for dramatic effect. It was time for some unnessecairy anger. "Anyway, we should discusse this inside before Sam collapeses from the strain he puts on his soul. Your bird really did number on him." He said as he was calming down from mentioning the Angels' lake of responcebility. It didn't help that thosefluffy featherduster that call themselves _Angels_ destroyed Amity because his parents had discovered a bit too much for liking. Just smith an entire town and be done with it, It's everyday bussines! Fudging Maniaks!

"Sam...?"

"I'm fine Dean. It's just a slight aching."

"And I'm the Queen of England. You are not fine. You are the contradiction of fine. Hell, your soul is falling apart and no new paint job is going to fix it. Psycological torture is far more effective than 'physical' turture when it comes to fracturing and corupting souls. Alistar was a brat with a hammer compaired to Lucifer's Da Vinci. Now, go inside before the giant strains his soul even more and collapses!"


End file.
